Annapolis
Three nights in the same bed. It’s practically unheard of on tour. We had a day off on Monday and then two nights at the Ram’s Head….which all adds up to three nights in the same bed. This is a decent little town to be stranded in if one has to be stationary for a few days. There is history, coffee, decent beer, ok food, books, ice cream all within walking distance. What more can one want on a day off.
The Ram’s Head is one of those venues that looks like it shouldn’t work, but we always have a good time and very good shows in this room. It’s small and cramped and the stage is too small and the PA is no great shakes, but the stage and room sound great, the audiences are always keen and supportive and we always have fun. I think we overplayed the room on the first night, but it was still a good night. The second night we settled in and had a very good evening. On Tuesday, Jeff, Margo, Jared and I ventured in to DC to record a Tiny Desks concert with Bob Boilen. Bob (and NPR) have been big supporters of the band over the years for which we are extremely grateful. The concert will be posted on the Tiny Desk site later this month (we’ll let you know).
Alexandria
Unlike the Rams Head, the Birchmere is the type of room that looks like it should be perfect for us. We love coming here: the staff is always friendly, we are cared for from the minute we arrive and our audience seems to like the room because we always sell it out. But there is something about the sound on stage that always keeps us from having one of those great shows. It’s very hard to hear the dynamics of the band on stage and so it becomes difficult to fall in to the music and let it take over. Also, the way the room is set up leaves a lot of the audience off to the side and so it’s hard to get a feel for the room. I don’t think that that we have ever sucked in this room, but I feel like we have never really hit it. Tonight was no different….I think we played well but we couldn’t find that next gear.
Providence
There is no getting around it…it’s a weird town. A huge organized crime presence, two prestigious educational institutes (Brown and RISD) and the money and culture that comes along with those institutions, and lots and lots of street crime. All of our gigs here have been a little unsettling and I don’t know if we’ve ever played any venue here other than a bar. Tonight was no different: although the Fete (where the gig was tonight) is a very good venue with a very friendly and helpful staff. I think we rocked like demons. I think the audience enjoyed themselves, although the bar at the back attracted the geese, who were polite enough to stop honking during the quieter numbers. We definitely rocked liked demons.
We spent the day on the bus in the alley behind the club. A very sketchy part of town, but there seems to be concerted effort to reclaim it as an Arts area. It was right around the corner from the world famous New York System hot dog joint. We ate wieners all day.
Ridgefield
Money, money, money, moooooonnnney……the Ridgefield anthem. Just far enough outside of Manhattan to keep the rabble at bay, but a close enough commute so that the battle can be taken-up at dawn. This is a beautiful town with a spectacular collection of 19th century mansions along its Main Street. While walking along the pre-revolutionary war downtown strip, I was accosted by two post-revolutionary war women who asked me to sign a petition to keep a high density (four stories), affordable housing development from being built in/near the town…”near single family homes”. It’s a beautiful town….and they’re going to keep it that way, goshdamnit. I’m not sure if it was the building that they were against or the texture of the people that would be inhabiting it…although I can probably guess.
The Ridgefield Playhouse is a very nice little venue and we always feel very supported when we come to this town. We had an amazing show tonight; full of energy and invention and passion. While on stage tonight I had my bi-annual epiphany….man this is fun, I don’t want to ever stop doing this.
Ithaca
It’s always hard getting started again and it isn’t getting any easier as the years pile on. One has to put all of those niggling details on hold; tie up any loose ends that won’t keep for a few weeks; help to co-ordinate ones family-life to ease the guilt of leaving. Yes, guilt. It’s not just because you are abandoning your family for 2 ½ weeks, it’s mainly because it’s so darn fun. Bye honey, bye kids…Dad’s going off to Camp. And once you get rolling it’s like you never left.
We start in Ithaca. It’s one of those classic up-state New York cities, but with a twist. From my point of view, upstate New York is one of the most depressing places in the country. Maybe it’s because I live just over the lake and I spend a lot of time travelling through this area, but I am always shocked at how depressed these cities and towns are. Home to the kings and queens of industry 100 years ago and now left behind to rot in all their elegant splendour. The twist with Ithaca is that there is a thriving economy on the hill above it (in the form of Cornell University) and down here in the valley there is a thriving hippie community trying to turn this town around. Let’s hope that the community above supports the community below.
As I have written many times in these diaries: the first night of any tour is always stressful. It all comes down to trying to remember how to do this: how to sleep on a bus, how to spend the day preparing, resting, sightseeing, rehearsing. And that usually takes one or two gigs….so these first night gigs can be a little rough…..very occasionally, transcendent. Tonight we were just ok. We kept it together, we did our gig, we definitely worked hard and I think most of the audience had a good time. But we were just ok.
West Long Branch
Sometimes all it takes is one gig to shake off the rust. Tonight we were way better than ok. We were in Bruce’s hood and were well aware of it. The house where he wrote Born to Run, Thunder Road and Backstreets was just around the corner (http://www.nj.com/news/index.ssf/2009/12/long_branch_cottage_where_bruc.html).
It rained and snowed and sleeted and haled all day. Horrible. Margo and I did a really good interview at Brookdale College’s public radio station, 90.5. It so refreshing to do an interview where the one asking the questions actually gives a shit about your answer, is actually interested in your music and is curious about it. Thank you Rich Robinson.
We had a rockin’ good gig tonight. A small but mighty crowd. Camp is fun.
Cartagena (Nov 12)
I think it’s just an unwritten rule of the European Road that the bus has to smell of piss at one point along the way. I’m not sure why that is…surely the Germans have developed the technology to efficiently hold piss in a tank without it smelling. Truth be told, there is no tank on this bus, it all goes straight to the road. Yes, we have been marking our trail across Europe with our pee. It’s an old Canadian trick, you wouldn’t understand. And yet, it still smells in here.
When it is Spain’s turn for the big bailout they should definitely put some money aside to fix the road from Madrid to Cartagena. The journey last night was like travelling 8 hours in a…in a…in a..bus with no suspension….try falling asleep with someone shaking you, with controlled violence, every sixty seconds. In between shakes your body vibrates at a high frequency while you wait for the next round. One begins to understand the power of torture by sleep deprivation. We had no expectations of Cartagena; we were told it was basically an industrial town. But most of us ended up liking it quite a lot. There is a crazy mish-mash of life on its’ streets, in its’ architecture and style. Untold armies of all the great and nasty civilizations have stomped this town. The list is staggering. It is a crazy quilt of Roman ruins and housing projects, Medieval castles and pedestrian walkways. Centuries of human habitation will do that to a place.
The gig tonight was a snoozer. We were exhausted and the audience was flat and didn’t seem to have any knowledge of our music, which can sometimes be a good thing, but tonight we needed a critical mass of energy to will us to be good. It didn’t happen so weren’t very good. But we made up for it by going out after the show with Jorge the promoter rep. He told us about his olive groves and about growing up in Germany and in Spain. He introduced us to a magic yellow elixir. We had fun.
Barcelona (Nov 13)
It turns out that Jorge’s magic yellow elixir is a lot more fun when you are drinking it than it is several hours later. We were dumped off the bus at our hotel at 10am and had to sit around and wait for our rooms to be cleaned…it was a blurry morning. Unfortunately it was a very rainy day in Barcelona. We’ve been very lucky with the weather, but not today, the rain barely let up all day. But we all made an attempt to wander and most of us found our way to the Sagrada Familia; Antoni Gaudi’s crowning glory to God. Most of you have probably at least seen images of this church, in person it is truly awe-inspiring, whether one likes the design is kind of irrelevant when faced with such a singular and massive vision. I definitely need a lot more time in this city. I think a week would do me fine….I just love the feel of this place.
We had a very good gig to end off this run of dates. It was in a very interesting theatre/club: an old and beat up room but it had a good feel and the people working it were great. An excellent audience tonight and we gave them what we had left. This has been a very fun couple of weeks for us. We are all exhausted and a little beat up but we had many excellent shows and went to a lot of cities and places that we have never visited. I think Spain has been a revelation to us all. It is such a big-hearted country with enough nooks and crannies to keep one exploring for years. We definitely need to get back soon…….Time to head home and finish up volume 4…stay tuned.
We were leaving Paris last night when the bus came to a very abrupt halt on the expressway and pulled, suddenly, to the shoulder. Before we could figure out what was happening we saw our back-up driver, outside, standing in traffic, futilely trying to stop oncoming vehicles. The tunnel that we were about to enter was too short for the bus so the only way out was in reverse, 50 yards back up the expressway on-ramp. It may have been midnight, but in Paris the traffic doesn’t stop, it was just car after car after car with the occasional truck blowing by. After spending about ten minutes watching our driver’s failing attempts to stop the flow of traffic, Farns couldn’t take it anymore and forced his way off the bus (yes, Sir John Farnsworth is back on the crew for this run, after the past several years spent in stasis at the Casino-Rama Nirvana). He quickly and forcefully organized the impatient Parisians, stopping and redirecting traffic with the confidence of a New York City cop. It was quite something to see. He actually diverted traffic on a very busy, very fast Parisian street. I think if they gave Farns a chance he could probably solve the Euro crisis…those Greeks wouldn’t stand a chance in the face of Farns’ determination, the Germans and French would become fast friends and move forward with a single purpose, the Italians and Spaniards would be humbled and would quickly get their houses in order…heck, he might even be able to get the English to come join the party. After that he could turn to the US and sort out that mess. What the world needs now is a little more Farns.
We were a little disappointed with San Sebastien. We broke the cardinal rule of touring, which is “No Expectations”. We had way too many expectations for this day off, in this town. We had visions of a small, quaint, seaside town, tucked away in Northern Spain between the Pyrenees and the Bay of Biscay. Well, it’s not that small, it’s not that quaint, and there is garbage tumbling in the surf. I get the feeling that one comes here on vacation to do a lot of drinking and to be seen by others. But it’s the off-season and it’s time for the locals to relax and perhaps let the town crumble for a couple of months. Aside from that, it’s a beautiful location, the weather is great and it’s hard to complain too much when you’re sitting on the patio of a seaside cafe sucking on a beer watching the local surfers take on the waves. No wonder the Spanish were so taken with California, this could be a Northern California coast. This sure is better than spending a day-off in a hotel on a highway somewhere in the middle of the US, but it ain’t no Bruge….man, we’re getting spoiled.
The audience tonight was close to spectacular. Their enthusiasm transformed this show. I think we were in danger of letting this one get away but the audience kept us focused and inspired. It’s very exciting when something like that happens. Chalk this one up as another very good show.
Madrid (Nov 11)
We got in to town at around noon and we all jumped off the bus and tried to take in as much of Madrid as possible in the few hours before soundcheck. Al and I went for a stroll along the magnificent Paseo Del Prado and ended up at the Prado Museum. I spent the day marvelling at the madness of Velazquez, Goya, Caravaggio, Fra Angelico, El Greco and the absolute bats-flying-out-your-ass maddest of them all, Mr H. “pish-posh” Bosch. I have only had a few sniffs at Madrid in the past twenty five years. We’ve never had a day off here and we have only passed through town (mainly on PR runs) a couple of times. But I’ve always liked what I’ve seen and now I’m more keen than ever for a return visit. I would love to have a few days to explore these streets. This city has a terrific energy.
This was a very tough day for Jared and John (especially for John). Because of the location of the theatre we couldn’t get the bus close to it, so it meant loading the gear from the bus on to a van and then driving the van to the theatre and loading it into the theatre and then repeating the whole ordeal at the end of the night. Two load-ins and two load-outs make for a very tough day for the crew. It’s hard to describe tonight’s venue…a modern facility built underneath a public square, the whole facility was underground. The theater itself was very bunker-like, low ceilings and large comfortable leather chairs for the audience. It was an odd night on stage…it’s hard for me to judge our performance because I had a tough time with my sound and never really settled in (too many images of dying Christ’s and weeping Mary’s in my head). It definitely didn’t have the energy or excitement of some of the best gigs on this tour, but it had its moments. The highlight of the night for me was Pete heading off on some tangent, in search of Max Roach, during Working On A Building. We definitely need to get back here soon.
Bruges (Nov 6 and 7)
If you are looking to spend a vacation in the Europe of fairytales and children’s books then Bruge is about as good a place to start as any. A damsel in distress, a couple of white knights on horseback, even a fire breathing dragon wouldn’t look out of place in this town. Apparently it is the best preserved medieval city in Europe and who am I to argue, this place is spectacular. Cobblestones, hidden grottos, canals, excellent food, 1030 varieties of beer, gothic architecture, medieval architecture, churches, cathedrals, museums, monasteries, Beguinages, ancient bridges, haunted houses, works by Masters, vials of holy blood, this city has it all. The only place you could find a more authentic medieval-European experience would be at Epcot Center or at your local Medieval Times restaurant…but I recommend Bruges, because of the beer selection. We were fortunate enough to have a day off here and we took full advantage of it (I have a question for any of you beer connoisseurs’ out there: there is a very distinctive taste to most Belgium beer, it could be a spice, it almost tastes like cloves, does anyone know what it is?).
The venue was equally spectacular: a late 19th century circular theatre with a fully raked stage and tiered balconies: very beautiful and it actually sounded decent as well. The show was a strange one but a very good one. Because of the type of stage there was a large distance between us and the audience it was also a very formal theatre, which can sometimes be intimidating to audiences and also, Belgium audiences are relatively reserved. So the energy coming from the audience during the show was very low, but that allowed us to turn inward a little bit and explore some very quiet and detailed improvisations. Judging by the reaction of the audience at the end of the show, I figure that they were very pleased with the result. This has been a pretty fantastic couple of days spent in a very special town.
Paris (Nov 8)
Paris is not Bruge. It’s not quaint or charming or easy to get around in. Paris is Paris, enormous and sprawling and beautiful out one window and ugly out the other. Paris is work unless you are on vacation. We rolled in this morning and had to dump ourselves off the bus because it, of course, can’t sit outside the club. It was cold and damp and….Paris. Don’t get me wrong, I love this city under the right conditions, but a one-off at a pokey club in the Pigalle District (the famous red light district of Paris) is not one of those conditions. But we’re pros, so we hunkered down and made the club our home for the day. And then again, when you get right down to it, work in Paris is pretty much better than work anywhere else in the world. So I had an espresso and pain au chocolate at a nearby cafe; some of us trekked uphill to pay their respects to Sacre Coeur; and we ate dinner at a nearby Cafe that fed us some mediocre food at very expensive Montmartre prices and then, I think, we were subjected to some kind of scam being run by the wait staff on gullible English speaking tourists…hey man, it’s Paris and you’re welcome.
The gig was awesome…we were feeling old and gnarly so that’s what we gave them….old and gnarly, and they liked it. Paris and its residents, rock….a totally gnarly day.
It’s a long travel day to get from Toronto to Budapest, especially for one gig, but when we got the offer from the Sziget Festival and we did the math and realised that it was economically feasible, we jumped at the opportunity. Budapest is one of those cities that is not on the beaten path of the cities that we regularly travel through and its one of those places that has always had a certain exotic allure. When you start saying “no” to opportunities to experience new places, just because of the hassle of travel, then you know you are officially “old”….and we’re not old, just a bit gnarled.
Margo, Pete and I decided to go a few days early so that we could pound as much pavement, eat as much goulash and sit in as many outdoor cafes as possible. It’s exciting sitting in a city for more than just a couple of days: one slowly figures out the geography and accidently discovers little pockets that one might otherwise miss. Another fantastically obvious thing about travelling is that, whether by osmosis or by sticking your nose in a guide book, one learns just a little bit more about another culture, another land, another history, another people. Oddly enough, in today’s world, which is so connected by economics, electronics and air travel, we all seem to be trying to crawl back into our own little shells (especially in North America), trying to create a false comfort, desperately clinging to a misguided belief that, “if I keep my head buried inside my shell then nothing on the outside can do me harm”. Travel makes you stick your neck out of that shell….it should be mandatory….raise taxes and give everyone a travel voucher to a foreign land….now there’s a platform I could get behind.
So, what did I learn on my summer vacation? Hungarians have had a tough time of it and they are a very resilient and independent people. Sitting smack dab in the middle of Europe between; the Romans and the Huns; the Mongols and everything else; the Austrians and the Turks; the Germans and the Russians; the Russians and the West, has made this land a bit of a stomping ground, but it seems that each time these people get stomped, they get back up and fight, once again, for their independence. The most recent example was in 1989, when it was the Hungarians who poked that first big hole in the Iron Curtain, which eventually lead to the whole structure tumbling down. So it is a blood soaked city. You can still see pock marks from large calibre weapons on many of the buildings in the core of the city. Castle Hill, which sits picturesquely above the Danube and looks out on the rest of the city, is a beautiful spot to spend a day, but it also happens to be the most strategic place to fall back to when under attack: it has been the site of 31 sieges in its recorded history. There have been some heroic moments; such as the Revolution of 1956 which saw the people rise up and overthrow the Soviet run government, only to be brutally crushed 12 days later by the Red Army; and there have been some very dark moments, such as the Nazi inspired (but Hungarian run) Arrow Cross Party that very efficiently rounded up over 450,000 Hungarian Jews and Romas in less than two months and sent them to their deaths. But there is more to its history than just struggle. There is also a very proud and rich history of the Intelligentsia (yes, I know, we’re suppose to hate the Intelligentsia these days, aren’t we? Socialist loving, latte sipping, book reading, music listening, high-brow thinking loafers…give me a narrow minded, power hungry troglodyte to lead us…that’s the way forward). In any case, as deluded as it may seem to some sections of the population out there, Hungarians revere their artists and thinkers and there are many of international renown. The streets and squares of this city are not only named for its political heroes but also its intellectual heroes.
So we wandered over top of the barricades, gazed up at the cast bronze faces of past Hungarian heroes, stumbled along the many pedestrian friendly streets, visited a few galleries, museums, synagogues and churches and recuperated at the outdoor cafes that line most of the streets in the cities core. That’s what I did on my summer vacation.
There was a bit of work as well…if you can call it that. The Sziget Festival is one of Europe’s largest festivals and that is saying something…European summer festivals are notoriously monstrous in size. This one is set over a five day period on an island in the Danube with over 20 stages; 60,000 campers; 400,000 paid attendance. As well as a side show of craft kiosks, zip-lines, bungee jumps, wellness centers, hundreds of food vendors and lots of beer and wine. It is basically a very large village that is set created for a week of festivities. It’s quite amazing, youth culture at its best, with a slightly buzzed but basically mellow and good natured vibe. We were on what was called the World Music Stage, which was kind of puzzling…listening to the bands before us, it seems that congas or timbales (or some other calf-skinned percussion instrument that emits a loud “thwock”) was part of the necessary instrumentation for this stage and we forgot ours back in Toronto. We didn’t quite fit in and unfortunately we didn’t play very well either. Maybe it was the full moon or maybe it was the vengeful spirit of Amy Winehouse (who was scheduled to be at this festival), or maybe it was the previous two days spent tripping over cobblestones, but for whatever reason, we kind of sucked. Not a great way to finish off a terrific few days. Now we have to wait for November to redeem ourselves. Home again, home again.
Gig day….finally. It’s been a great few days but we are ultimately here to play some music and we are all itching for the opportunity. This show has been balancing on a cliff edge for weeks, teetering and threatening to topple off into nowhere with the government and its various agencies giving it little not-so-innocent shoves every now and then. It’s hard enough to put on a music festival in this country, these types of things are relatively new especially when they involve foreign acts. This particular festival is the brainchild of Youdai, who is a famous Chinese DJ (both on radio and in clubs), he was the first to play western rock music on the radio and is responsible for introducing this generation to scads of new music. Youdai is also a friend of Zuoxiao Zuzhou (ZXZZ) whose song I Cannot Sit Sadly By Your Side we covered on Renmin Park and who also contributed a vocal and lyric, A Walk In The Park, to the album. Zuoxiao is an extremely well regarded artist in China and his music has broken down many barriers, he is also becoming quite popular. When Youdai heard about our collaboration with ZXZZ the idea for this festival was born. Youdai went about the labour intensive process of contacting all of the foreign acts that he wanted to have perform and then after signing contracts with them he had to then undertake the massive job of getting all of the necessary permits and clearances needed from the various government and security departments. This included not only getting the government to agree to specific bands (bands that he had already signed contracts with), but also getting all of the repertoires translated and approved by the necessary departments. An example of the type of detail that he and his team needed to deal with was trying to come up with a translation of our name so that we wouldn’t be ruled out by the censors…our Chinese name is now Cowboy Fan. We also had a couple of songs crossed off of our set list; Sit Sadly because it contained the word “gun” and 3rd Crusade because, well, just because. In any case, he got all of the permits and permissions signed and then about four weeks ago Zuoxiao Zuzhou ended up getting into a political mess and banned from performing live or making any public appearances. At that point the advertising for the festival had already been put out on the street, radio ads had been created all with Zuoxiao Zuzhou’s name featured prominently. The government threatened to shut down the entire festival but a compromise was reached where the festival had to take pull back all of the advertising and take ZXZZ’s name off of it all; their beer permit was pulled; their capacity was limited and they weren’t allowed to sell tickets at the door on the day of show. And so they did. And I’m sure that this is just part of the story, I’m sure that all of the people that are responsible for making this festival a reality have had to jump through more hoops than we will ever be aware. It’s all part of bringing this country step by baby step into the modern world.
We arrived at the festival grounds for soundcheck in the morning only to find a jumble of cables and wires strung all over the place and a lot of stressed out looking tech people. The grounds are massive: an unused, uncared for swath at the south end of the Olympic Park. They don’t do anything small in this country. With a lot of patience and helpful direction, Jared and Tim got the stage set and we were able to do a proper soundcheck. The rest of the morning and afternoon was spent scattered around Beijing shopping for that last gift or taking in one more site. At around 4 o’clock we got a call from the festival saying that our set time had been moved up an hour. The curfew for the show had been moved earlier by the police and one of the acts was not taking the stage in a timely manner so they were booted off the bill. As you can imagine, the turnout for the festival was a little lighter than they hoped but from our point of view we finally got to play, had a fun show and capped off a great week. I don’t think our appearance will result in Cowboy Fan streaking up the pop charts in China but we hope that it will lead to a return to this country and a proper tour to half a dozen or so cities. We haven’t gotten enough of this fascinating country or of its resilient, friendly, outgoing people.
In the meantime our friend Zuoxiao Zuzhou was not even allowed to attend the concert (the large police presence had been given his photo and told to arrest him if he showed up) so it was arranged for us to get together with him at a restaurant after the concert. We had a great night with him, feasting on cuisine from the Muslim orientated province of Xinjiang, drinking lots of beer and sampling some of China’s finest “white lightening”. It was such a pleasure to finally meet him, his generosity was overwhelming his excitement at meeting us was thrilling.
Tomorrow we head home, tired and happy. This is my fourth time here and I still want more and I’m pretty sure everyone would sign up in a flash for another spin through this country. One layer only leads to the next and every layer is as fascinating as the one you just pulled back. Here’s hoping that we get back soon.
Mr Liu showed up this morning (those of you not familiar with Mr Liu should check out the Renmin Park blog). He is a remarkable man and it was a great pleasure to see him again. He is eighty four years old and a twelve hour train trip from Shanghai didn’t even faze him, he could teach us all something about growing old and staying young. He brought along with him his “comrade” Mr Chen, who served with Mr Liu in the air force in the 40’s and 50’s. Mr Chen is a native of Beijing and he was keen to show us his city, so Margo and I headed off on the subway with these two octogenarian PLA vets in the lead. After a very good and cheap lunch outside the Temple of Heaven we said goodbye to the two of them at the Performing Arts Center (a spectacular building) and Margo and I continued on to Tiananmen Square.
It was an interesting day to be walking around Tiananmen Square (check the date and check your modern Chinese history). Unfortunately, the vast majority of the people walking on the square were, no doubt, oblivious to the significance of the day, a testimony to the PR powers of the Chinese Government. Despite it all, Tiananmen Square is an overwhelming space: with the Forbidden City at one end, Mao’s Mausoleum at the other and enormous government buildings running down the sides. The size and scope is hard to get ones head around. Going from the gigantic to the ginormous we headed over to the Forbidden City which is unbelievably vast and on a day like today hot as heck. Open courtyard leads to open courtyard and there is no place to hide from the sun. By the time we emerged from the Palace we were exhausted so we opened ourselves up to the extortion practiced by the cab drivers waiting for the sun-stoked tourists emerging from the City gates and we agreed to pay a driver four times the going rate to take us back to the hotel.
After a couple of hours rest, Pete, Jared, Blair and I headed back out in search of a brew-pub that we heard was hidden somewhere deep inside the same Hutong where we had dinner last night. Blair and Jared used their best Boy Scouts of America tracking skills and found the place. It was tucked away, deep inside one of the residential corners of the Hutong and it was well worth the journey. A very funky little place populated by Americans, Canadians and Brits all jonesing for something other than the German style pilsner that is served exclusively in this country. Bags of hops piled in the corner and tiny little home-brewing kegs scattered all about the place, and man, that IPA tasted good. Our luck ran out when we decided to try an Indian restaurant that we stumbled across on the way out of the Hutong. Horrible, horrible food. Luckily the IPA had dulled our senses. We bribed another cabbie to take us back to the hotel and we put another excellent day in the books.
